Fire's Rage
by Dragongirlie
Summary: He's sick of dealing with his father. He knows he can't properly use his Quirk, but that wasn't the point. The point was to revolt and prove that he could do what All Might couldn't: save everyone. Despite his hazy thoughts, even he knows the latter is impossible. But the least he could do was to become a hero with his own power, on his own terms. M for language aka Bakugo.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This obviously isn't done! It needs revising and full-blown editing that's probably going to take a year and a half. I'm only uploading this one chapter,*** **just so you can get a taste of what it's about. It'll be a lot better once everything has been written and finished and thought through. So once the whole story is done, I'll upload it all at once! (And it'll take forever to write :D) Hopefully, this is enough to spark some interest. Also, there's cursing. Haha, I love you, Bakugo. Go beyond... Plus Ultra!**

 ***(Yeah lol all that was a total lie, you push over. XD Heh, anyway, I did upload up to chapter five. I'm only gonna be adding onto that for special holidays and such. Christmas is right around the corner, so keep your eyes peeled! I'm working on chapter nine, and ten is in the works. I'm currently working on rewriting these first few chapters to touch up on some things I wanted to add. Anyway—Plus Ultra, you nerds.)**

It took a long time. It took a long time to get used to the feeling of uselessness. It took a long time to get used to the aching pain in his heart. How long had this lasted for? How long was it since he felt the approval and admiration of peers?

It seemed that it would never happen. Of course, it hadn't ever happened before, so there was no point in trying. What more could he want other than to end the pain? What more could be done other than to finally relieve his heart of this crushing, clutching, burning, killing ache that never faded?

What more could be done other than to end it?

Those were the thoughts that plagued his mind before something grabbed his shirt. A thick, green, wet substance that leaked into his clothing. It was cold. It snapped him out of his depressing thoughts.

Izuku's scream ripped through the air, only muffled by the thick slime that was forced into his mouth, up his nose, down his throat. He couldn't breathe. He was choking, choking, _dying._

His vision turned hazy and blurred. Everything burned. His lungs longed for the sweet bliss that was breath, something that he couldn't provide. He could feel his strength dwindling. He couldn't fight. His limbs passed harmlessly through the slime. It wasn't tangible. He couldn't grab it and pull it away. He couldn't bite or claw at it. This was _killing him._

For perhaps the first time in years, he _didn't want to die._

He felt his eyes drift closed. His lungs still burned with the need of air. Everything became distant and foggy.

All at once, the slime rocketed out of his throat, air rushing into his lungs in desperate gasps. His knees and palms hit the asphalt as tears and saliva dripped down as a result of the painful coughing. His throat felt like it was torn to shreds. The coughing fit didn't cease. Something in his head told him that he was still dying. He was still choking.

Black dots danced in his vision, merging and swelling and bubbling up, stealing his consciousness away.

"Hello, young man! No need to cry, for I am here now!"

That voice—

Something grabbed onto his shirt, pulling him up to his feet with a steady grip. Izuku risked a glance up, his breath catching in his throat. Standing in front of him, costume and all, was the number one hero. All Might, with his yellow hair, brought up like horns, and his signature grin taking up a fourth of his face.

The boy heard a whisper in the back of his mind, telling him. This was the Symbol of Peace. Air rushed into his lungs as he looked up at the man. The smile was blinding. When had the boy last seen a smile so wide? The whispers came forth once more. Not since he was four.

All Might shifted his stance. "Well, it was nice meeting you, loyal fan, but I must be off!"

The boy had half a mind to cover his face, run away, forget this had ever happened. But he grabbed the cuff of All Might's costume, giving a light tug. "W-why weren't y-you there?" The stuttered, soft-spoken words were simple enough to understand, and yet so soft that they could barely be heard at all. His grip tightened. "W-why didn't y-you s-save her?" The words were in the same voice but seemed to have taken on a louder, more desperate tone. "Y-you c-could have s-saved her."

The Symbol of Peace's smile turned forced. Izuku then realized it was a show. A show put on by a hero that tried all too desperately in promising peace and hope and light against the darkness. "I'm not entirely sure what you're talking about, but I must be going." Izuku held tighter on his uniform cuff, not letting up. His next words were inaudible. It was as though they were muttered out of embarrassment, though no such expression was on the boy's face. "What was that?" the hero asked.

The boy's gaze snapped to meet All Might's eyes. "I have a dangerous Quirk," he said, his words just barely perceptible. Izuku leaned forward. "It hurts my body every time I use it, but I want to be a hero. A hero that, unlike you, can fight and win every time."

The Symbol of Peace was silent for a moment. "I must go now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Midoriya."

The boy flinched back, releasing his hold on All Might's uniform cuff. The hero squatted down before rocketing up into the air, streams of smoke flowing from his skin.

An unasked question burned at Izuku's tongue. _How does he know who I am?_ He began his walk home once more, rotting soles scraping the sidewalk as he forced himself onward. He didn't want to die. His chest still hurt and his heart still ached with that distant pain, but it was progress. He didn't want to die. Not anymore.

His walk home was interrupted once again. The ground trembled, and explosions disturbed the air with a burning heat, forcing shockwaves careening through the area. Those explosions were exactly like Kacchan's.

Izuku started running, his legs aching and his head full of any horrible possibilities that could be going on. There was another explosion followed by a guttural scream. That was Izuku's final validation.

The boy continued his sprint, turning a corner and freezing in place. Pro heroes were lined up along an opening to an alleyway. There were policemen, and even Endeavor and Kamui Woods were standing there. The expressions they wore gave the boy almost no context. The furrowing of Endeavor's brow could mean literally anything. Kamui Woods was naturally stoic, but Izuku was at least smart enough to make out that something bad was happening. Something very bad.

Another explosion ripped through the air. Izuku forced his legs forward, toward the heroes. Just another few feet forward before two police officers stepped in front of him, blocking his path. The male officer placed his hands on his hips. "Sorry, kid, but you can't come back here. The pro heroes have got this under control."

From where he stood, Izuku saw that it was indeed Kacchan who was in the clutches of the slime-Quirk villain. His gaze snapped back to the officer. "That's my friend."

"I know, it's worrying, but they have this under control," he insisted. The officer pulled out a notebook and pen. "Could you tell me his name?"

"They're not doing anything," the boy said, disregarding the question. He just stared up at the man. "My friend is suffocating."

"As I said, the pro heroes are taking care of it," the officer assured.

Something in the officer's voice made the boy angry. "They're not doing anything," the boy growled, his tone sharp and low. "They're just standing there, watching, letting him die."

"Look, kid," the officer muttered, rubbing his chin. "Your friend is going to be fine. The heroes are—what are you doing, get back here!"

His legs had already started off, beating against the asphalt in a mad rush. Something about Kacchan trapped in the slime like a panicking bird didn't sit well with him. Kacchan wasn't one to simply give up, and that pure, unbridled fear in his eyes was horrifying.

Almost against his will, Izuku's fingers grabbed his book bag strap and slung his bag off his shoulder, heaving it forward. The zipper was tugged open by the force, his folders and books flying out and embedding themselves in the villain's slime-Quirk body. A roar resounded through the alley. Izuku had gotten closer, stopping right in front of where Kacchan was struggling for breath. The boy had started to claw uselessly through the slime as Kacchan struggled to break free.

Kacchan brought a hand to his own slime-covered face and let another explosion loose. The slime pulled away from his mouth.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

The boy winced slightly, sweat pouring down his face. "You looked like you needed help!" he yelled, taking heaving breaths as he tried to keep the slime away from Kacchan's mouth and nose. It wasn't very effective.

A betrayed sort of look crossed Kacchan's face. It turned to pure fury. At least it wasn't fear anymore. "WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THIS?!"

The boy opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a burst of wind from behind him. A yell of Texas Smash followed as All Might showed up, pulling back a fist and letting his Quirk loose, wreaking havoc on the villain. The slime bled away, and Kacchan dropped to his knees, gasping and coughing. Izuku saw that tears and sweat that flowed down his face.

All Might's skin was smoking, and as soon as he showed up, he was gone, having leaped away with his Quirk. Izuku watched him silently, his fists clenched at his sides. That slime villain was going to pay for messing with Kacchan. Maybe not that day, but someday. Anyone who makes Kacchan cry out deserves to be destroyed.

Izuku's attention snapped back to Kacchan, who still heaving breaths on the ground. His red eyes were narrowed and angry. "Why..." he gasped.

"Because you were helpless," Izuku stated, despite Kacchan's growl of anger at his words. "I saved you because seeing you so desperate and fearful makes me sick. Now get up, stop acting like a victim."

Kacchan forced himself up, his fists tight. "I'll fucking kill you—"

Izuku shoved his hands in his pockets. "Shut up. Go talk to the officer with the bat ears. He wants your name."

Those red eyes held an endless amount of fury. "I'm going to fucking kill you tomorrow."

Izuku ignored Kacchan's promise and waved him toward the officer. He picked up his book bag, which was now soaked with slime. He sighed, dropping the bag and proceeding to pick up the remains of his books. Just another day until middle school was finished. Just one more day until he could finally start actively training to get into U.A.

Just one more day.

He started home, four books and two binders in his arms. His pens and pencils were in his pocket. His walk home took a long time. There weren't many straight roads for him to cross, and he had to zigzag through the city to get there.

Izuku entered the apartment building, his arms aching. The smell of alcohol and mildew burned his nose. As he walked down the hall, he sighed. The apartment building's elevator was broken again. With luck, it would be fixed within the next month, but even that seemed to be rare.

Letting out an annoyed exhale, he started up the stairs. It took perhaps two minutes to get up to the third floor, but it was exhausting. He walked down the hallway, stopping in front of his and his father's apartment. Not even knocking, he dropped his books and kicked the door with his sole, letting it swing open and slam against the inside wall. There was a shout of protest from the neighboring apartment.

"SHUT UP, YOU DO THE SAME THING!" Izuku shrieked. Another shout from the neighbor. "IT SOUNDS _EXACTLY_ THE SAME!" When there was another yell of anger, the boy grabbed the doorknob and struck it once more into the neighboring wall. "NOW SHUT UP!" They fell silent.

Izuku kicked his books inside, letting the door slam behind him. He kicked his books further into the living room, then into a corner of his own room. He fell back onto his bed, pulling out his phone and scrolling through the news feed. Sure enough, All Might's victory was on the news, and Kacchan's signature angry face was plastered beside the words "Ambushed Boy Saved By Hero."

Izuku groaned, throwing his arms up above his head. He was so tired of this world. This life. He wanted it to stop.

The phone vibrated. A new message. He eyed it for a long moment, hesitant.

He grabbed it and unlocked it. Opened up his messages.

 **Hisashi**  
 **Why did you save him?**

 **Izuku**  
 **He's my friend.**

 **Hisashi**  
 **Bullshit.**

 **Izuku**  
 **You don't have the right to call friendship "bullshit."**

 **Hisashi**  
 **I have every right to call anything bullshit.**  
 **Are you at home?**

The boy didn't type anything for a long time.

 **Hisashi**  
 **I'm taking that as a no.**  
 **You better have a good excuse.**

There was an unmistakable threat in those simple words. Unfortunately, text messages weren't the best at portraying emotions, especially ones from that man.

 **Izuku**  
 **I'm home**.  
 **I've been home.**

There weren't any more messages after that. Izuku forced himself out of bed, stretching his back and his arms out as far as he could before relaxing. He went ahead and entered the bathroom, took a shower, got dressed, had ramen for dinner, and finished the last of his homework before Hisashi got home.

There was no mistaking that loud pounding on the front door. Izuku swallowed the last bit of broth before leaving the dish in the sink. He went to the door and opened it up. Hisashi stormed inside, roughly shoving the boy out of the way.

Izuku slammed the door shut, spinning around to glare at his father's retreating back with gritted teeth. The man paid him no mind, simply stomping into his own room and pulling it shut with a loud bang. Izuku could already feel his bridled anger welling up in his chest. He couldn't help but mentally curse at his father. For all the things Izuku dealt with, one could only think that the boy's father would be more understanding.

That wasn't the case. The man even reminded Izuku of Endeavor, and that certainly wasn't a good thing.

—

By the time Izuku woke up early the next morning, he changed into a T-shirt and shorts, pulled on his sneakers, picked up his books and binders and left the apartment room. He trotted down the stairs, reached the bottom, and proceeded to walk out the door of the building, down the road to the nearest coffee shop.

They were local, which meant anything bought there would better boost the economy. Besides that, Izuku knew that he could make Hisashi mad by paying full price for something that could've been less when bought somewhere else.

But their hot chocolate had gotten really good over the years; much better than anything Izuku had gotten store-bought.

He entered the cozy little shop, setting his things down on a nearby table before walking up to the counter.

The lady behind the counter gave a small wave, a slight smile on her face. Faint but real. "Hey, Izuku."

"Hi."

"Same as usual?"

"Yes, please."

As the lady went ahead and fixed his drink, Izuku went and sat down at his table. There was the little ting of the tiny bell, signaling that another person entered the shop.

"Hey, Deku."

Izuku turned, looking at Kacchan from over his shoulder. His tone took on a sarcastic manner. "Hi. What happened to 'I'll fucking kill you'?"

Kacchan sneered, walking around to sit in the only other chair at the table. "I figured your son of a bitch dad would do it for me." Izuku shrugged, looking out the window at the passersby. "Don't give me that silence, I know you hate him as much as I do," Kacchan muttered. Izuku knew not to mention the whole "trying to save you" thing. Kacchan had a short temper, and it was surprisingly easy to throw him off the wall.

"I do hate him," Izuku admitted, sinking his nails into his palms. "I hate him more than anything else in the whole world."

He would've said more, but the lady had brought over his drink. "So, Izuku, I saw you on TV last night. You fought a villain?" The boy didn't even look at her, carefully sipping at his hot chocolate. He hummed in response. He didn't miss the angry tic under Kacchan's eye.

There was a silence until Kacchan ordered (demanded) a drink. Izuku knew that Kacchan didn't even like what they had on the menu at the shop. It was obvious he was just trying to get her to leave. Kacchan stared him down. "So. You're going to try U.A."

That wasn't a question. "Yes, I am," the boy said. "Your point is?"

"Why are you even bothering? You can't even use your fucking Quirk without fucking yourself up," Kacchan stated.

Izuku nodded absentmindedly, taking another sip. "I know."

The lady brought over Kacchan's drink. The latter's fists tightened. It seemed he was forcing his anger down. "But why are you bothering?" Izuku was silent for a moment.

"I guess I mostly just hate Hisashi," he said finally. "I think becoming a hero will kill two birds with one stone. First, I can piss off Hisashi by rejecting villainy, and two, I can finally help people. I can finally _save_ people."

"You're stupid."

"I know."

They didn't stay for long. They really couldn't stay for long. The school started in half an hour, and it took just about that amount of time to walk. Izuku stood up, got his things, paid for both drinks, and left with Kacchan by his side. Izuku didn't miss it when his friend tossed his untouched beverage in the trash on the way out.

"What'd you order?" Izuku mentioned.

Kacchan shoved his hands in his pockets. "Some dumb-as-fuck tea."

"How imaginative they've become with their names."

"I'll fucking kill you."

Izuku snorted. "Yeah, right."

Their walk to school consisted of simple, ignorant things that kids usually talked about. It was a welcome change, considering what had happened the preceding day. They got to school four minutes early, which gave them both just enough time to put their things away and get seated before the tardy bell rang.

And of course, like always, Kacchan kept up his bully act.

It was lunch when Kacchan and two of his lackeys approached him. Izuku raised a hand in greeting, his expression bored. "Hey. What do you want?"

Kacchan gave a toothy grin, shoving his fist into his open palm. "A bit of fun. C'mon, Deku."

Izuku swirled his ramen around in his bowl absentmindedly. "I dunno, I'm actually kind of busy." He took another bite.

"Lunch's almost over. We'll beat you up at recess." Kacchan shoved his hands in his pockets but looked no less intimidating.

Izuku just shrugged. "Cool with me."

Recess ended with burns and bruises on his face and arms. Soon after, with just one class left, he felt the burns finally healing. The ache remained, but the on-contact pain had faded.

Finally, the class was over and the kids started cheering for the end of the year, yelling about how they were going to be heroes. Izuku followed most of them out, keeping a steady pace with the rest of them. He heard whispering about U.A.

 _I heard it's really hard to get in._

 _Yeah. And apparently, only twenty-four kids can be in the hero class._

 _Aw, that sucks!_

Though Izuku studied everything he could about the prestigious U.A., he hadn't heard about that. And it seemed that getting in would be a lot harder than Izuku first thought.

 **A/N: Edit: Changed Midoriya's manner of speech from quiet and reserved to a louder, more outgoing kind. But don't worry, that shyness will definitely be back soon enough. Other than that, nothing's changed!**


	2. Chapter 2

It's amazing how simple words can be on the outside. It's almost shocking how many people miss those small, intricate details. Izuku is still amazed how long he'd been able to keep his Quirk down.

Through the years of torment and pain, he still managed, somehow, to keep the power at bay. He hadn't used his Quirk since he was four. He still had the scars; uneven patches of paler, whiter skin that covered his hands and arms up to his elbows.

It was amazing how not one person was suspicious of this. He didn't try particularly hard to hide them.

But, middle school was over now. The U.A. entrance exam was right around the corner. Izuku had only ten months to ready himself for the exam. He knew that he had dug himself into a ditch. Not using his Quirk had most likely weakened it significantly. But at the same time, perhaps he could actually learn to control and harness it while it was still weak.

Izuku was walking on the sidewalk right next to the Dagobah Municipal Beach Park. The boy didn't remember much about the place, but he did always have this calmer feeling while at the park. A strange sense of tranquility. It was easily unlike how he felt while he was at home, or even with Kacchan. It was calming.

Unfortunately, the place had been so loaded with trash that barely anyone went there anymore. It was a shame, really, that so much litter caused a once beautiful area to become what equated to a dump. Izuku couldn't help but stand there, overlooking the tons of shattered cars and full trash bags and piles of metal boxes that the boy wasn't sure had even _held_ anything.

Izuku slipped down off the sidewalk and onto the beach. His shoes left indentations in the soft, yellow sand as he simply walked among the garbage, eyeing it all out. The high sun glared down with force, making the whole place smell of iron and rot.

Izuku walked among the beach for a long time. Perhaps an hour or two. The buzzing of the phone in his pocket stole his attention away from the shimmering ocean. He brought out his phone, unlocked it, and opened up his messages.

 **Hisashi**  
 **I heard you were getting into U.A.**

 **Izuku**  
 **I figured it was better than working with you.**

 **Hisashi**  
 **Why do you make it so hard for me to love you?**

 **Izuku**  
 **Because I hate you.**  
 **You ruined my life.**

Nothing was said for a long time.

 **Hisashi**  
 **Come home. Now.**  
 **I've got something for you.**

Izuku simply stared at the message. Was there some deeper meaning? Was there something he just didn't realize? What if it was another trick? The boy slipped his phone back into his pocket.

Whatever it was, he could pay the price. Nothing was worse than living with Hisashi.

Izuku started walking back to the apartment building, letting his feet drag to make the walk longer.

Unfortunately, he got there all the same, and right at the beginning of the evening. He walked up the three flights of stairs and went to his and his father's apartment. He turned the knob and let himself in, quietly closing the door behind him.

Hisashi was sitting at the small kitchen counter, back toward the boy. Izuku flexed his hands, attempting to keep his nails from drawing blood on his palms. After only a moment, he knew he failed.

Hisashi looked over his shoulder at Izuku. "Come and sit down," he said, shoving another chair toward the boy. The man's tone wasn't an invitation.

Reluctantly, Izuku walked forward and sat down in the chair, crossing his arms on the countertop. Hisashi saw the sour expression on Izuku's face. It was obvious what he was thinking. _What do_ you _want?_

The man grinned. "I just wanted to give a little present to my son." Izuku forced himself to stay still. That word "son" left a bad taste in his mouth. Hisashi reached into his pocket, pulling out a black box about the size of a television remote. "With love from me to you. How does that sound?"

Izuku gritted his teeth before biting his tongue. He couldn't trust himself to say anything. A bad metallic taste bled into his mouth.

Hisashi seemed disappointed. "It's not polite to ignore a gift, Izuku. You have to say 'thank you.'"

The boy bit down harder on his tongue. He hated the way Hisashi said his name. It was cold and mocking and he _hated_ it.

"Say 'thank you', Izuku."

Silence for a moment.

"T-thank you, F-Father."

"Say it again."

"T-thank y-you, Father."

"Again."

They went on like that for quite a while. Hisashi wasn't one to ignore problems, and it seemed the biggest problem he had on his mind was fixing Izuku.

After fifteen minutes, Hisashi finally gave up and just slid the box over to the boy. Izuku had given up, too. He didn't even want whatever was in the box. For all he knew, it could be a long-forgotten memory that deserved to be forgotten or just some cheap pen.

But he took the box, slid off the chair, and went back to his room, shoving the box underneath the bed. After a moment, he just sat there on the floor, reveling in the little peace that Hisashi left behind for him.

Perhaps Hisashi knew he wouldn't open it. Perhaps Hisashi knew what he was doing. The man seemed to know everything else. Maybe it was another test. As much as Izuku wished he could just forget about that box, it always seemed to crawl back into his head.

During their sparring, Kacchan seemed to realize his head wasn't in the game. He landed a quick round-house kick to Izuku's ribs, sending him to the ground. "Oi, Deku, what the fuck's wrong?"

Izuku just laid there in the dirt, staring up at the sky. "You just kicked me in the chest, what do you think is wrong?"

"You weren't paying attention," Kacchan muttered, winding back his leg to kick again. "Now get up. Stop acting like a victim."

"Aw, you're quoting me now?"

"I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

That was the entirety of their conversation about it. Though Kacchan didn't go out of his way to help Izuku, though the latter definitely found it easier to bare while he was sparring with him. But after a while, even Kacchan knew that training without Quirks wasn't going to help in the long run. That was the first time Kacchan actually demanded Izuku use his Quirk, and the latter found it rather strange that just a day before, Kacchan was asking him why he was even bothering.

But nonetheless, Izuku ended up with his chin pressed into the dirt of a small green park, his arms pinned behind his back, and one of his legs bent so far forward he thought it would snap.

"USE YOUR QUIRK!" Kacchan shrieked.

"NO!"

"ACTIVATE IT!"

"NO!"

Kacchan bent his leg further. It crossed Izuku's mind that this was usually how they played "Say Uncle" as children. With Kacchan on his back, pinning his arms, almost breaking his legs, demanding Izuku say uncle over and over again, and Izuku screaming "no" each time.

"GET OFFA ME!"

"USE YOUR FUCKING QUIRK!"

"I SAID NO, NOW GET OFF!"

Izuku was proud to say that Kacchan eventually gave up on using force, but even that had its disadvantages. Kacchan wouldn't stop bugging him, even when they moved from the dirt to the wooden bench in the park. Izuku was back to his loud although dignified self.

"Use your Quirk."

"I said no, Kacchan."

"Use your Quirk."

"Stop it."

"Use your Quirk."

"Kacchan, please—"

Kacchan gritted his teeth and crossed his arms, looking like he was physically forcing himself not to lunge and tear Izuku apart limb by limb. "Stop being a little bitch about it. If I had your Quirk, I'd be fucking lucky. You wanna get into U.A., right?"Izuku's lips thinned to a line. Kacchan could tell he was getting to him. "You wanna get into U.A., then you need to stop being such a fucking push-over. Use your Quirk."

Izuku's gaze flickered away. "It hurts," he muttered, almost glaring at the dirt.

"I know it hurts," Kacchan snarled. "Stop whining about it. My wrists are all fucked up because of my Quirk. Suck it up."

Izuku stared at him, at a loss for words. Kacchan openly admitted one of his few weaknesses.

Izuku's gaze snapped to Kacchan's wrists. They didn't seem damaged, but he did notice how Kacchan rubbed up and down on his carpals as if to soothe the pain. Izuku couldn't help but stare at his own hands, bleached mostly white by the thin scar tissue. It took a second of concentration, but a stream of smoke trailed from his fingers, dissipating into the air. Izuku could already feel the burning heat of the Quirk, and he hadn't even activated it completely.

Kacchan looked almost proud. "Good. Now catch yourself on fire before you pussy out."

Izuku could already feel his concentration slipping away. He tried summoning the flame, the smoke. But before he could grasp at the power, it died away, leaving his palms warm and pink. He slumped back, his hands dropping to his lap. "I can't do it," he muttered, breathing hard. "I can't summon it."

"Like hell you can't! Stop being a pussy and start a fucking forest fire!" Izuku raised his hands and pressed them onto Kacchan's forearm. At the contact, Kacchan jumped and slapped his hands away. "Fuck, your hands are hot!"

"I know. I should've been able to do it. I can't summon it," Izuku repeated. In a split second, Izuku cried out, covering his afflicted cheek. "What the hell, Kacchan?!"

"You're being fucking stupid," he growled, rubbing at his knuckles. "You're still acting like a shitty nerd."

Izuku grimaced, still rubbing his cheek. "I know, but you didn't have to punch me."

"You're so fucking dense it's the only thing I can do to get you to fucking listen to me," he muttered. "Now shut up and try again."

For the rest of the day, and despite his efforts, Izuku couldn't make a single flame. Kacchan seemed equally as disappointed in Izuku but made it horrifyingly obvious that he was going to put Izuku through absolute hell to get his Quirk to strengthen. After a few days, by the time Izuku got home from their training, he felt dead on his feet. Everything burned and ached and his hands were still warm from attempting that one, tiny flame. It was then that he realized just how hopeless it was for him to get into U.A.

Izuku couldn't say a thing to Kacchan about his second thoughts. Another punch to the face wasn't very appealing.

A few more days went by, and nothing changed. Izuku could just barely get his hands to smoke, but getting them to catch fire would take what seemed like years. Kacchan didn't let up, and he made sure that Izuku knew that. There were no breaks throughout the day. For twelve hours every day, both of them sparred and (in Kacchan's case) blew stuff up. The things that were damaged was mostly the metal crates on the beach park, and although Izuku couldn't blow anything to smithereens, he could still help out by pulling the smashed cars off the beach and carrying away what remained of the crates. And although every day he came home sore and hurting, it was the back of his mind that said yes, he was growing stronger, and he was heightening his chances of becoming a hero.

The work seemed to slowly be paying off. With Kacchan basically chasing him down with a weedwhacker while carrying a whip, his training never faltered in its effectiveness. A few months passed and Quirk training went along with the physical training. Despite Izuku not being able to conjure his flames, Kacchan was constantly demanding and yelling at him. Izuku didn't find that it did anything, but he was sure Kacchan would have already known that.

Or perhaps it was more helpful than Izuku once thought. During one of Kacchan's "pep talks," a flicker of light came from his finger. It went away so quickly that it was barely visible, but it made the boy have to fill a bowl with cold water to try and be rid of the pain. After hearing that such a flame would cause a burn, Kacchan was adamant about building Izuku's resistance to heat and fire and brought him out to the beach in broad daylight.

Izuku tried desperately to explain that that wasn't how resistance worked, but Kacchan was insistent on his claim.

"Shut up, just put your hand on the hood," he barked. Izuku ended up burning his hands again and had to wait a while until they healed.

After five months, Izuku wasn't sure he could do it anymore.

"Kacchan, this isn't working," Izuku stated. They were sitting on the wooden bench at the green park, under the shade of the trees. "I can't get it to start and it still burns me every time." His gaze went back to his scarred arms.

"You just need to stop being a little bitch about it," Kacchan groaned, stretching his arms up above his head. "You'll get used to the pain and then you can use it correctly."

Izuku rubbed the cheek that Kacchan had punched the last time they sat on that bench. "I don't think I can. Or rather, I don't think I can ever use it correctly."

"Deku, I swear—"

"I'm not putting myself down," Izuku interrupted. "I'm saying what's on my mind, which you haven't been letting me do since we started this pointless quest to get me into U.A. It's not gonna happen. I'm hopeless."

Kacchan gritted his teeth, crossing his arms. Even he seemed to know it was true.

Izuku walked home with his soles dragging. Without Kacchan as a distraction, Izuku was free to think of anything. And, after five months, it went back to that black box underneath his bed.

Despite having ignored it and refused to open it, his sheer curiosity made him consider opening it more than once. His thought process was an inner turmoil. On the one hand, there was the chance to cure his curiosity concerning the box. On the other, his father had called it a "gift" from him to Izuku. And although Izuku hated to admit it, he couldn't just ignore the secret that lay inside the box.

So when he got home, he found himself simply unable to stop staring at the box that he had moved to his desk, silently contemplating between the two choices he had access to. After a few moments, he got up from his seat and went to take a shower, hopefully helping with his unwavering interest.

It didn't do much, and Izuku was struggling to keep his mind away from that box. After a few more hours, he caved in, sitting at his desk with his hands clasping the lid of the box.

His breath was held, and he felt the strong urge to break down and cry. He wasn't sure what the reason for that was, but something seemed to weigh down his heart when he looked at that box, making him feel everything that he had been shoving down for years. Why was it breaking now? Why was it now?

Tears silently dripped down without his consent as he gingerly lifted the box's lid. Inside were two white gloves, folded up and placed with care inside the box.

His arms were crossed on the desk, his forehead resting on top. His quiet sobs continued for a while, but when it finally stopped, he was almost relieved that his anger and fear and sadness had leaked out in tears instead of screams of rage. It wasn't gone, and it wouldn't be for a long time, but after the small breakdown, at least it could be held back just a little while longer.

 **A/N: Okay, I know I said I wasn't going to be uploading any chapters until it was near to being done, but I was excited, and my birthday's coming up, so I decided to give you an early birthday gift! Chapter 3 is coming out on the 27th, and I swear that's the last one for a long while!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Happy birthday! Guess who's thirteen now? ;)**

Izuku woke up, still at his desk with his head resting on his crossed arms. His back ached his eyes hurt and his cheeks felt sticky and stiff from dried tears.

As he forced himself to get up, he saw the white gloves, still laying neatly inside the box. He let out a shaky breath, not trusting himself to blink for fear the emotions would bubble up and drown him once more. Instead, he reached over and took the gloves, running a thumb over the weaved fabric. It could've been satin by how soft it was, but it held a familiar smell that Izuku could only associate with smoke and fire.

He slipped the gloves on, flexing his fists and arms to get used to the snug, soft feeling. It was strange, having something to cover his arms. Izuku had always had those scars; he'd only remembered one time where he didn't have them, and that was before All Might had proven himself unworthy of the title "Symbol of Peace."

But he felt oddly free. He felt that weighted pain lessen, if only slightly. He felt like he could run longer, throw farther, breathe deeper; if only to continue feeling free.

For the first time since he was four, he felt a justified courage filling his chest.

Izuku unlocked his phone, opening up his messages.

 **Izuku**  
 **Hey.**

 **Kacchan**  
 **the hell you want?** **im busy.**

 **Izuku**  
 **I know.**  
 **I'm sorry, but I need help.**

 **Kacchan**  
 **no.**

 **Izuku**  
 **Kacchan, please.**

 **Kacchan**  
 **quit calling me that,** **i'll murder you.**

 **Izuku**  
 **I think I can summon it.**

Nothing was said for a while. Izuku had stared at the screen, waiting. Five seconds. Ten. Thirty.

 **Kacchan**  
 **fine. meet me at that dumb coffee shop in 20.**

Izuku could feel a light hope rising up.

 **Izuku**  
 **Thank you.**

 **Kacchan**  
 **shut up. this never happened.**

 **Izuku**  
 **What happened?**

 **Kacchan**  
 **atta-boy.**

Izuku was at the coffee shop ten minutes early, giving him enough time to get some tea before Kacchan arrived. The lady behind the counter was still trying to make conversation as she brought his drink over. "Those are some cool gloves! Did you get them today?" she had asked, to which Izuku shook his head.

"Five months ago," he said, that boisterous-sounding voice that made him seem braver than he was.

"So, is your friend coming again?"

"Yes."

"I didn't catch it last time; what's his name?"

"Kacchan."

It was then that he burst through the door, sending the tiny bell into a fit of jingles. The lady smiled at him. "Hello! Can I get you anything, Kacchan?"

His red eyes immediately snapped to Izuku, who shrugged with an innocent face. "She wanted to know your name and I told her. Don't get mad at me for her curiosity."

"Whatever," Kacchan muttered. It seemed he was keeping his anger in check. "Just get up. You're going to have hell for slacking on your training."

He sighed, "Okay." Izuku stood, giving the money to the lady and walking out of the shop, right behind Kacchan.

They walked for a while, the sun rising up higher in the sky until it beat down with a harsh vengeance. Soon enough, they were at the beach park.

Kacchan stopped abruptly, Izuku almost crashing into him. "Go stand over there." The former pointed over to a car. It was half crushed, the windows gone, and the paint peeling. "I want you to melt it."

Izuku's stomach leaped to his throat. "Kac—"

"Do it before I break all your fingers one by one," Kacchan snarled.

It was an empty threat, but something made Izuku just shudder at his tone. "You're paying for this," Izuku muttered, both glaring at Kacchan and walking forward, standing in front of the aged vehicle.

"Now start up the fire. Quit being afraid of it."

"I'm not—"

"Bullshit. You've only got five months to get this thing down, and you're not wasting it by being a pussy. Now, fire it up!"

At the base of his heart, Izuku knew Kacchan was right. Something was holding him back. By now it was obvious. The only question now was what.

He placed his palms against the metal of the car. Heat flared up beneath his palm, coloring the metal a bright orange. Flames licked at the air from between his fingers, growing rapidly brighter and hotter.

He could only keep it up for a few moments, the flames quickly dying away, but he was already shocked into silence. The heat—

Izuku rushed to pull the gloves off of his arms, taking the time to stare at his pink palms. Sure, they were hot and there were emitting steam, but they weren't burned. That was the only thing Izuku needed to learn that those gloves were fireproof.

His attention quickly snapped back to the car. There were two red blotches on the hood, the metal slowly sagging down into the engine. It had melted. Izuku had melted it with just seconds of contact.

Izuku jumped when Kacchan slapped a hand on his shoulder. "I told you it'd get better."

"It wasn't my resistance to my own Quirk," Izuku muttered lowly, looking down at the gloves in his hands and rubbing a thumb over the fabric. "It seems that the gloves were specially weaved with a fireproof material that both lets flames out and keeps it out while also allowing the user full mobility that's unobstructed as a result of slicker, lighter armor—"

"Shut the fuck up with your nerd shit and keep destroying crap!"

"If you weren't my friend, you'd have a broken jaw."

"Fire up, Deku!" Kacchan screamed.

Izuku couldn't help but feel mildly angry. It seemed that Kacchan only cared about getting himself and his friend into U.A. He wasn't even giving any thought to the very real possibility of Izuku not passing the entrance exam.

Izuku turned back to the car and pulled the gloves back on, tightening his hands into fists at his sides. Heat came forth from his palms, and smoke came billowing from between his fingers. As flames leaked out, Izuku had to use everything he had to keep the power going.

Through the heat and the pain, Izuku opened his hands, allowing a fire to flare up, almost blindingly bright.

"Now burn shit!"

Izuku gritted his teeth, to keep himself from screaming in anger and pain, that familiar metal-taste staining his mouth as his teeth pierced his tongue. He placed his hands palm-down onto the car's hood. The fire's heat burned his face, his eyes snapping shut at the light.

It melted almost instantly, leaking down into the engine. The heat traveled throughout the car, turning much of the metal a bright yellow-orange. Smoke streamed from the engine. The actual fire weakened and fizzled out.

Izuku was panting, sweat pouring from his forehead. His heart was beating wildly as he turned and started sprinting in the opposite direction.

"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING?!"

Izuku didn't even turn to face him. "It's gonna blow up, asshole!"

He heard small and frantic explosions. Kacchan rushed past him, then spun around and caught Izuku by the shoulders, holding them both in place.

Both were taking heaving breaths as a giant bang sounded from behind them, the ground trembling to accompany its sound. Izuku took another breath, his legs trembling from under him. His knees slowly gave out, letting him sink to the sand, out of Kacchan's grasp.

"Don't touch me, I'm dead," he muttered, his eyelids suddenly heavy. "And the fact that my hands just blew up a fucking car. You should keep that in mind, too."

Kacchan eyed him, his expression unreadable.

Something light and airy filled Izuku's chest. He could almost smile. "But I summoned it." The words were just barely above a whisper, and though they came from a seemingly unamused face, they held an infinite amount of shock and relief. "I can summon it."

"I told you!" Kacchan yelled, kicking Izuku's side, causing the boy to recoil. "You just needed to stop being a scared pussy over some dumb fire."

"That's not even what I was scared of," Izuku protested, his panting cutting up the statement. "It's my father's Quirk, more or less. It's his fire."

"Bullshit," Kacchan sneered. "That's your Quirk. His Quirk is breathing fire and yours is being a lighter."

Izuku closed his eyes, feeling exhaustion pulling his eyelids down. "I'm not a lighter."

"Like hell you aren't, Deku. You're a fucking lighter."

Izuku couldn't even argue anymore. His legs felt weak and the heat from his hands seeped in throughout his body, making him feel drowsy and heavy. "Help. I've fallen and I can't get up."

"Shut the hell up, you're fine. Get up," Kacchan demanded, landing another kick on Izuku's ribs.

"Ow."

"Get up!" Kacchan gritted his teeth and opened his hands, lighting up small, popping explosions on his palms.

Izuku's eyes snapped open as he forced himself up despite the pain and numbness of his limbs. "I'm getting up."

Kacchan's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, you'd better. I'll fuck you up."

Izuku walked home with Kacchan by his side. Kacchan claimed he just didn't trust Izuku not to die on the way there, but the latter assumed that it was more because of a well-hidden soft-side of Kacchan. The times that Kacchan actually showed anything other than fury were quite few and very far between. Izuku counted that as a win.

They arrived at the apartment building in about twenty minutes. The sun was slowly melting beyond the horizon, sending bright oranges and reds along the sky. Izuku thanked Kacchan for walking him home, to which Kacchan promptly protested with a snarl. He left soon after and Izuku turned the knob and going inside the apartment building.

He went up the stairs and walked to his father's apartment, letting himself inside. Izuku eyed around the house, into his room, the kitchen, Hisashi's room, and both bathrooms. Hisashi was nowhere to be found.

Izuku retreated back into his room, letting out a held breath. For a long time, he realized just how thankful he was when Hisashi was away. A buzz in his pocket stole his attention.

 **Hisashi**  
 **So you finally opened it, huh?**

Izuku was silent for a second. His fingers lay still on the phone's screen. Finally, he typed.

 **Izuku**  
 **What did you do to them?**

 **Hisashi**  
 **I didn't do anything to them you brat.**  
 **I merely wanted to give a little something to my dear son to help him get into the prestigious U.A.**

 **Izuku**  
 **I don't believe you.**

 **Hisashi**  
 **Well, of course, you won't.**  
 **Your friends will, though.**  
 **And I don't want to be known as the man with the U.A. dropout as a son.**  
 **You better put those gloves to good use or I'll have your fingers, one by one.**

 **Izuku**  
 **You don't follow through on promises.**  
 **Stop throwing out empty threats.**

Hisashi didn't respond. Izuku doubted the man even read the messages.

—

A bang resounded through the apartment. Another came right after the first.

Izuku flinched, forcing himself to breathe steadily as he went to his room's door, cracking it open and peaking out.

He saw Hisashi, face red, eyes full of fury. The man's eyes snapped to Izuku's own, sending shivers down the boy's spine. He shut the door, standing down low with his back against it, legs far in front of him, forcing the door to stay closed.

 _"LET'S SEE WHO'S HANDING OUT EMPTY THREATS NOW, ASSHOLE!"_

There wasn't a lock on the door. His breathing quickened and his heart raced as he heard the doorknob turn and the door be forced in.

A yell of anger sounded from behind the wood. Something banged against it, trying to push Izuku out of the way of the room's only entrance.

 _"OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!"_

Izuku's muscles seized up, his body turning rigid. He felt hot and tired, sweat dripping off his forehead and onto his hand, where it vanished in a line of steam. His throat was tight and dry, but something told him to scream. To yell and scream and attack with tooth and claw until all was safe again. Until all was fine again. But he stayed there, frozen at Hisashi's words. His limbs couldn't work and his tongue was limp and useless in his mouth.

Izuku felt the heat from behind the door, and it didn't take a genius to know who it was. Kacchan had once told him that if Hisashi turned violent, to call him. Text him, anything to let him know.

Izuku's gaze flicked to his phone on the floor. A few feet away. Another bang forced the door forward again and Izuku couldn't manage to hold back a sob.

 _"IZUKU, I SWEAR I'M GONNA BURN YOUR FUCKING FINGERS OFF!"_

Izuku didn't know when he started crying, but it definitely wasn't a surprise. The boy forced his foot to act as a doorstop, digging his heel into the wood. Another bang forced him off-balance as he tried to reach for the phone.

His fingers grasped desperately, just inches away from its black case. Then he lunged forward, grabbing the phone and backing right up into the door before it could bust open. Izuku could see firelight streaming in from between the cracks in the door.

 _"OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR, IZUKU!"_

He unlocked his phone with sweaty, unsteady hands, calling Kacchan on speed-dial. He held the phone up to his ear, enduring another bang at the door. His tongue ended up between his teeth, biting forcefully into the skin as he waited for Kacchan to pick up.

 _Just pick up! Just pick up the damn phone, please!_

His thoughts were split into two things; the first was keeping the door shut for as long as he could. The second was for Kacchan to _pick up the phone._

After what seemed like five minutes, the phone stopped ringing, replaced by Kacchan's voice.

 _"The hell you want?"_

Izuku had to suppress a sob of relief. "H-Hisashi," Izuku whispered into the phone. Another bang jerked him forward, and he felt a burning sensation on his back. Kacchan had gone silent, though Izuku could easily pick out a whispered curse. "K-Kacchan, y-y-you need to g-get the h-h-hell over h-here. P-please."

 _"You have a window, don't you?"_

"Y-yeah."

 _"Jump out the window."_

"K-Kacchan—"

 _"Shut the fuck up,"_ Kacchan hissed. His voice seemed hoarse. _"I know you're on a third story building. Just climb down. I'll take care of Hisashi's_ fugly _mug."_

"D-don't h-h-hurt h-him too m-much."

 _"Deku, if you think I'm gonna let that bitch go unscathed then you've—"_

"Katsuki, _p-please_." The silence over the phone made Izuku's heart rate continue to skyrocket. He shivered where he sat, tears rolling down his cheeks. Another sob escaped his throat as the door was shoved open, burnt wood and all. Hisashi stood there, towering over Izuku, fire pouring from his throat.

There was nothing but anger in his eyes.

The man's fingers wrapped around Izuku's shirt front, the boy choking from the force. Smoke filled the room. He couldn't breathe. Another hand grasped his throat and forced him back into the wall with a forceful shove, embedding Izuku's back into the drywall. He couldn't gasp, the fingers encircling his neck had tightened, squeezing his airways. The phone slipped from his fingers. Izuku could almost hear Kacchan's yells and curses of desperation. Izuku could just barely hear Kacchan screeching his name. His _real_ name.

But the boy couldn't answer. He couldn't cry out and tell him he was fine. He couldn't move. His hands were clamped around Hisashi's fingers, pulling desperately to try and loosen the grip.

On a whim, he let go, placing both gloved hands on Hisashi's face, his palms heating and catching fire. The odor of burning flesh bloomed throughout the room as Hisashi's shriek of pain and rage beat at Izuku's ears. Before Izuku could even register it, Hisashi had grabbed onto the boy's wrists, twisting them forward and then out, making a silent threat.

The flames ceased before Hisashi even broke them, a loud and sickening snap cutting through the air. Izuku had to bite his tongue until it bled to keep from screaming. Hisashi took a large inhale of breath, pulling Izuku closer by the wrists.

The boy's head was foggy, filled with cotton, clouded by pain and unadulterated fear. Flames spilled outward from Hisashi's open mouth, and although Izuku had been able to control himself before, he couldn't keep in the scream that seemed to go on forever.

The burning heat was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. It was worse than when Izuku had first used his Quirk.

His eyes felt dry before the pain seeped in, and then it was just _burning._

Blackness started to creep into his vision despite it being plagued with orange and red fire.

Izuku's last thoughts were scarily clear.

What had he done to make this happen?

Is this really how it ends?

 _...Why did Mom have to leave?_

 **A/N: Don't worry, he's not gonna die. I'll admit, the main character favoritism is strong with this one. I have a few more chapters done, so if you ask nicely (with a sweet cherry and sprinkles on top), I could upload another one for Halloween.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: You guys asked, and I delivered. Hope you enjoy! If you have any questions about the story or where it's going, feel free to ask me and I'll answer them all in due time. Hopefully, I won't bore you with the next chapter and its slight reconstruction of words and actions.**

The police had mentioned that Hisashi was a convicted felon that was out for blood. Katsuki had only known that Hisashi was Deku's father and nothing more. Even the man's Quirk had been a mystery to him besides the fact that it had something to do with fire.

It was hard to believe that Deku had been able to keep quiet about it for so long. Katsuki promised himself that he would teach him a lesson once he got out of that apartment.

But Katsuki was caught off guard when an ambulance came, its alarm blaring and red lights flashing. There was a SWAT team outside the apartment door, demanding that they were to be let inside. After a few moments, they broke in.

Two teams of medics rushed in, and one lady politely but sternly told Katsuki to get out of the way of the pros. Katsuki couldn't exactly argue, and he stepped back to the side, watching the whole scene unfold.

Deku was pulled out of the room on a stretcher, smoke streaming from his burnt hands. There was blood all over his face and crooked hands, and it seemed to ooze from almost nowhere. The medics were frantic in trying to get down the stairs of the apartment building, keeping away from Deku's hands.

The SWAT team had gotten cuffs around Hisashi's wrists, though it wasn't very hard to do. His face was layered in an oozing burn that covered his eyes, rendering him unable to see. He was getting medical treatment before going to jail to serve a life sentence.

Katsuki's hands went to his pockets, trying to restrain himself long enough for Hisashi to be taken away and Deku to be hospitalized. He went home after one of the officers demanded so.

His soles scraped the concrete all the way there, his mind replaying the somewhat gruesome images of blood. His mother was fussing over him in that pissed-off yet loving way of hers. The night consisted of her yelling at him, calling him an idiot, smacking the back of his head, and hugging him so tightly he could barely breathe. Over dinner, the "conversation" eventually went to Deku.

"Doesn't your friend live there? At the apartment building?" she asked.

"Used to," Katsuki muttered, crossing his arms at the table. "He got sent to the hospital." Mitsuki went quiet for the first time that night. Katsuki got up, the chair going back with a screech. "I'm going to bed," he growled, turning away.

He did go to bed, though it took a while for sleep to come. He had his phone opened up on the messenger. He knew it was a dumb idea. He knew that Deku wouldn't answer.

 **Katsuki**  
 **hey, deku**  
 **you dead?**

As expected, no answer. Katsuki gave a heaving sigh, dropping his phone onto the blanket and leaning back, trying to forget about what had happened. Sleep pulled at him, his exhaustion winning over. Perhaps things weren't as good as it seemed.

—

Katsuki forced his eyes open when his phone buzzed with a new message. He felt for his phone, unlocked it, and looked at his messages.

 **Deku**  
 **Yeah, man.**

 **Katsuki**  
 **fuck you**  
 **you scared the shit out of me**

 **Deku**  
 **Sorry.**  
 **I couldn't exactly fight back.**

 **Katsuki**  
 **fucking deku**  
 **why didnt you say your dad was a fucking villain?**

There wasn't an answer. Katsuki gritted his teeth, jabbing at the letters.

 **Katsuki**  
 **you better fucking answer me, deku**  
 **why the hell would you keep that to yourself?**  
 **thats fucking stupid**

 **Deku**  
 **I know.**  
 **I'm sorry.**

 **Katsuki**  
 **tell me**

 **Deku**  
 **I was scared.**  
 **I thought he was going to hurt you.**

 **Katsuki**  
 **bitch, your dads a pussy**  
 **hes in jail now, probably on death row**

 **Deku**  
 **I know.**  
 **Thank you.**

 **Katsuki**  
 **the hell you thanking me for?**  
 **youre the one who got beaten to a fucking pulp**

 **Deku**  
 **I know.**  
 **Just, thanks for always being with me.**  
 **Through all that.**  
 **I think that, if you weren't there, I probably would've killed myself.**

 **Katsuki**  
 **hell yeah you wouldve killed yourself**  
 **you can't even walk without tripping and smashing your face in**

 **Deku**  
 **No, I mean, actually killing myself.**  
 **Like suicide.**

There was an obvious pause in Deku's typing.

 **Deku**  
 **So, thank you.**

 **Katsuki**  
 **you accepting visitors?**

 **Deku**  
 **Probably.**  
 **They were surprised by how quickly my burns healed.**

It was strange that Deku didn't take the chance to take a jab at him. Something like "Aww, you do care!" or "Why? Were you worried?" But there was nothing of the sort. Deku just sent the location of the hospital and stayed silent afterward.

Katsuki turned his phone off, forcing himself up and out of bed. He took a shower, got dressed, had breakfast, and was out the door before Mitsuki was even awake. He'd already left a note with his own crude handwriting, the words just barely legible.

He walked the whole way there, seeing as it wasn't very far. When he went through the doors, the inside was a starch white, practically blinding. The receptionist was standing dutifully behind the counter, hair neat and makeup done, but it was obvious that it had been a long night. The unhidden bags under her eyes and the slump of her shoulders told him so.

"I'm here to see Izuku Midoriya," he muttered, a scowl on his face.

"They're only allowing immediate family members at the moment," she droned, covering her mouth when a yawn came forth.

Katsuki's fists tightened as he as forced himself to hold back. "He doesn't have anyone else," he growled. "His father's a convicted criminal and his mother's dead. Everyone else either hates him or doesn't know him."

The woman nodded, as if in a trance. She turned to her bulky computer, tapping quickly and precisely at the keys despite the obvious exhaustion. After a moment, she held out a little card for him to take. "Just so they know you're supposed to be here," she supplied, withholding another yawn. "He's up on the second floor. Take the elevator, and then go down the hall to the fourth door on your right.

Katsuki thanked her with a slight, stiff bow, stalking over to the elevator. He jabbed at the up button, entered the elevator, pressed the second floor, and waiting impatiently as the elevator slowly rose up. That smooth elevator music was annoying as ever—especially now. It was almost mocking in how carefree and calm it sounded.

It opened with a small ding, and Katsuki walked out, counting the right doors up until the fourth one. He was about to just bust in before it occurred to him that it probably wouldn't be the best action in a hospital.

He gave three knocks, waiting once more as the doorknob turned, opening inward. Holding up the card between two fingers, Katsuki barely regarded the doctor as he just walked inside, scanning the white room. There were a few beds lined up along the wall, but there was one person that caught his eye. A green-haired, skinny, pale-faced kid.

There were bandages wrapped around his forehead, another strip wrapping diagonally over one of his eyes. An IV needle was pinned into his arm, held steady with a piece of medical tape. His lower palms and wrists were in thick casts. Deku seemed to take notice of Katsuki's entry. His one visible eye almost glittered with what Katsuki guessed to be the relief.

"You're okay," he whispered, his voice hoarse and scratchy. He closed his eye, laying back into his pillow in a new relaxed manner. "You're okay."

"Hell yeah I'm okay," Katsuki growled, pulling a chair up next to Deku's bedside. "You're the fucked-up one."

Deku made a sound from his throat that could've equated to laughter. "I know."

"So, suicidal thoughts, huh?"

Deku's visible eye snapped open, his form no longer so relaxed. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

"Shut the fuck up," Katsuki demanded. "No matter what the fuck anyone tells you, you're better than all of them. You're the best fucking friend I've ever had, so if you give up, I'll have to fucking kill you." He held up his tightened fists for unneeded emphasis.

The corner of Deku's mouth quirked up in a sort-of smile, although it looked painful. "Aw, I love you too, Kacchan." His voice had gotten softer.

"You sound like a newborn puppy. Shut your face." Deku averted his gaze, though Katsuki could easily pick out the relief in his eye. Another thing Katsuki noticed were the bruises along Deku's neck. They were uniform, even, thick lines of purple that encircled his throat.

He had been choked and burned. And from what it looked like, both wrists were broken.

"The hell happened?"

Deku gave a small sigh, his volume turned to a hoarse whisper. "H-Hisashi was trying to bust open the door. He got in and grabbed me." Deku's face turned grim. "Started choking m-me. I couldn't breathe, I-I panicked. I... I burned his face. With my hands." Deku's eye closed again, he still wasn't facing Katsuki. "I-I could smell it. It was burning, Kacchan. It was burning flesh."

Katsuki didn't ask for more. "You fucked him up good." He placed a firm, though gentle hand on Deku's shoulder. "I'm proud of you." A quiet squeak from the boy made Katsuki straighten. Deku's shoulders were jerking slightly up and down in silent laughter. Katsuki scowled, almost reluctant to speak. "The hell you laughing at, Deku?"

But he didn't stop. It seemed he couldn't. Tears gathered at the corner of his visible eye, and his face was red just from laughing. His face was split in a wide smile, but it seemed he was trying to cover it with his upper arm.

"The fuck... You're freaking me the hell out, stop it."

Deku just dissolved in rolls of almost silent laughter until he was practically gasping for air. It took a few minutes for it to finally stop. They sat in silence for a few moments afterward.

"My face hurts," Deku whispered, his grin having faded.

"No duh, asshole. You haven't laughed in years, let alone smile. What's funny? You look like something from a fucking horror movie," Katsuki said, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair.

"I have no idea, but I think I might be insane," Deku murmured, his expression once again somber and grim.

"Insane or not, you better heal soon enough to take that entrance exam," Katsuki snarled. "It's either that, or I blow your head apart."

"Got it. But, before I forget..." Deku pursed his lips. "Would you mind if I stayed over at your house?"

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. "How long are we talking?"

"Uh—A few years? I can get a job."

Katsuki left soon after Deku's doctor had told him when he could be discharged, which would be in about a week. Katsuki had already called his mother in advance, alerting her that Deku was to stay at their house from then on. Though Mitsuki didn't argue, Katsuki had made it almost painfully clear that he didn't want Deku to feel like he owned the place.

It was a few more days of simply waiting for Deku to recover from the broken wrists and extensive bleeding, but soon enough, Katsuki brought a bookbag full of Deku's clothes and other things to the hospital.

By the time he got there, Deku had gotten the casts and head-bandages off, uncovering blotchy, white burn scars on his forehead. His wrists were still wrapped, and his eye, too, was still covered. Though the bandages were off, gauze was still pressed over his eye to ensure it fully healed. Deku had gotten dressed in the bathroom, coming out with shorts and a short-sleeve shirt. Almost ironically, it said "polo shirt."

Once that was sorted, Deku thanked the doctors for their help and they started walking to Katsuki's house. Deku's doctors had been strict about his wrists and eye, which still weren't fully healed. Bandages were to be changed out every day, and the gauze was to be replaced whenever it no longer properly served its purpose. He had apparently also been given strict orders to keep from exerting himself for a while longer, though Katsuki himself knew that wouldn't last for long.

Even after nearly a month of Deku living with them, not everything went back to normal. Despite Deku's mostly-healed physical injuries, it seemed he was still somewhat mentally scarred by the incident. He often forgot that he was living with Katsuki and his family, and seemed more timid and quiet than before.

His volume had gotten lower and lower until it was no more than a constant whisper. Katsuki had also taken the time to notice how Deku often fingered around his neck when he was nervous as if feeling for something that wasn't there.

Over dinner, Katsuki had brought it up. "You still scared or something?" he asked.

Deku swallowed a mouthful of katsudon, though he didn't look up. "I guess," he muttered. "It's just hard to believe that he's finally gone."

Mitsuki's gaze flickered to him. "How long have you lived with him?"

"Nine, ten years maybe," Deku responded. His shoulders hunched as he just stared down at his food. He seemed almost disappointed with himself. "It's been a while since I've experienced normal family life."

Mitsuki's expression turned somber before she broke into a grin. "Well, we're gonna give you one hell of a time. Eat up, we're getting you a haircut, and we're going fucking shopping!"

Though Deku did end up getting a haircut to get rid of those singed-black ends, they didn't really get anything else. It was obvious that in Mitsuki's eyes, the whole point was family bonding, especially with Deku being so nervous around Katsuki's father. Masaru mostly kept his distance despite his wife's demands. It seemed the man found it better if he were to let Deku have his space and then come to him when he was ready. Katsuki didn't disagree.

After the whole shopping thing, they went home with nothing much else going on that night.

Katsuki had to shake Deku awake the next morning, seeing as the latter was unable to wake himself up without his phone's alarm, which had been melted in the incident with Hisashi. In spite of Mitsuki's promises of getting him a new phone, Deku had repeated again and again that he would rather her not spend extra money on him. But Mitsuki had already ordered him a phone, and it would be arriving in a few day's time.

But Katsuki woke Deku up and made him go change out of his nightshirt. The shirt was, quite simply, a T-shirt with the words "pajama shirt" printed on the front.

"Why the hell do you have that?" Katsuki asked. "It's fucking stupid."

"It's not stupid, and I like it," Deku muttered, pulling on his socks. "It amuses me."

"Yeah, fuck that, I'm heading out," Katsuki claimed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You're taking too long."

"Shut up, you'll be fine. I'll be done in a minute."

A minute later, they were walking down to the beach. Katsuki was already explaining what they were going to do. "I called a few people," he began. "They said they'd leave their trucks at the beach. We've only got three months left, and you need to get into shape."

"I've never been _out_ of shape," Deku said in that irritatingly soft voice. "And why don't you have to work out?"

Katsuki scoffed. "I have a Quirk that I can rely on. You've got trauma and scars because of yours, so you need to rely on muscle."

Deku didn't agree, but he didn't argue, either.

They arrived at the beach fairly quickly, Katsuki glancing over at the two trucks far from the shore. He placed both hands on Deku's back, practically shoving him forward. "Alright. Go fucking nuts."

"Kacchan, I don't have those gloves," Deku argued, digging his heels into the sand to stop himself from being forced onward. "I can't just—"

"Like hell you can't!" Katsuki shouted. "Resistance, Deku, use your fucking resistance!"

Deku's heels ended up doing almost nothing for him when Katsuki just set his feet farther back, pushing with almost the entirety of his body weight. He didn't want a repeat of trying to get the damn Deku to use his Quirk.

After fifteen minutes of Deku's resistance, the boy caved in, allowing himself to catch his fingers on fire. His face was slightly twisted with pain, but the flames held. They didn't go any lower than his knuckles, however.

"Why're you holding back?" Katsuki asked at some point.

"I still need the bandages," Deku had replied. "They have some kind of stuff in them that the doctors want me to keep on."

Katsuki growled. "Fuck the bandages; we'll replace them later. Fire up!"

At his exclamation, Deku's palms lit up, scorching the bandages and his hands. They went as quickly as they came, leaving behind red fingers but untouched bandages. Deku seemed entranced by what happened. Katsuki snapped his fingers repeatedly in front of his foggy gaze. "Oi, Deku. Focus."

His eyes snapped up to meet Katsuki's. "Sorry."

"Shut up. Melt that car's doors off, we can trek it over to the trucks over there."

And thus began the long, draining, three-month horror movie of non-stop work. The boys would run to the beach, spend most of the day melting the metal down, carrying it a quarter of a mile to the trucks, generally cleaning the beach up, before running back home to have dinner. Mitsuki learned very quickly to make extras, and Deku realized that every time he forgot his gloves, his hands would be red and raw within an hour.

Then they would go to bed and wake up extra early the next morning to do it all again. It was constant, grueling, and exhausting. Katsuki always seemed to pull ahead of Deku, but it was probably more of just because of Katsuki's wishes and promises to be the world's Number 1 Hero.

Deku seemed to find his idea narrow-minded and not-very-well-thought-out. So far, not one person could top All Might's popularity as the Symbol of Peace, and Katsuki was no peace sign. Deku had mentioned this multiple times to Katsuki. Katsuki didn't refrain from calling the boy out on his obvious hypocrisy.

"Well, what are _you_ going to U.A. for?" Katsuki had droned. "Don't tell me you're still fighting against your fucking dad."

Deku hadn't answered to that, but after another week of training, he started talking.

"It's not out of my own choice," Deku stated, lifting his red-hot hand to melt off the hinges of a fridge. "More of just this feeling that's been eating away at me for all these years." His steaming hands had tightened to fists. "I feel like I've been doing something wrong. Like I've actively betrayed someone, but I don't know who, and that becoming a hero would finally make it go away."

Katsuki listened to him carefully, picking out certain words.

 _Actively betrayed._

 _To finally make it go away._

"So, you're feeling guilty."

"I guess," Deku sighed, shaking off his hands to try and get them to cool down faster. "I don't know why, though. Might be because of Mom and what she had to deal with. It's not easy living with Hisashi, especially when he's got custody of your kid." He heaved up the refrigerator door above his head, hiking up toward the two trucks.

"Which reminds me," Katsuki started, pulling four full trash bags over his shoulder. "How did your bitch dad get custody?"

Deku shrugged as best he could with the door taking up his hands. "No idea. I think Mom might've found out about his whole villain thing, Hisashi threatened her, and they went and filed for a divorce. During that process, they probably went to trial to see who got what and who got me."

"You seem oddly okay with this," Katsuki noted, scowling. "You aren't fucked up because of it?"

"I don't know. It just never really occurred to me how dangerous Hisashi was. Mom seemed to know, though, and I'm glad she got the hell out of there."

"You're avoiding my question of 'are you fucked up'."

Deku gave a heaving sigh. "I probably am. Have nightmares every once in a while, but I'm always fine in the end. I sometimes think what would've happened if All Might had gotten there in time. If he had saved her." His voice grew vaguely wistful. "Maybe I could've lived with her. Maybe have a normal childhood with a normal, loving parent."

They walked in silence after that, letting Deku's words sink in. They continued their work for the rest of the day. Tomorrow, they would have their chance.

Their chance at getting into U.A.

 **A/N: Feel free to leave a review; I love reading what you have to say. Constructive criticism is also accepted, you know. I don't bite!**


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: **This chapter is for Thanksgiving. So I'm giving you this in thanks for choosing to read my story!**

 **Oh, yeah, we're getting into some canon stuff, too, so there's going to be some repeated information. I just thought it was important for the tone to include it— feel free to skip a few sentences to get into the more original additions.**

 **Ah, I'm also gonna be rewriting the chapters before this to touch up on some things I wanted to add, so take some of these things with a grain of salt; they may be changed!**

Izuku had nightmares.

 _"Help! I need a strong hero to come and save me!"_

 _The door swung open with a bang. "I am here!" the little boy screeched, a giant grin on his freckly face._

They weren't too bad.

 _His mother held in laughter as he climbed on top of her, yanking the blanket off her head. "You're safe now, civilian!"_

They were just reminders.

 _"Thank you, strong hero! How could I ever repay you?" she teased, squeezing the boy in a hug._

Memories of helpless things.

 _"I just wanted to help!"_

Memories that seemed more like taunts of the things that he had lost.

 _"You're so selfless," she had smiled, "you'll make a great hero!"_

Or maybe they were beckons to his dreams.

 _He grinned, his eyes shining."Thanks! I love you, Mom."_

Beckons to his wishes that soon withered like her ashes.

 _"I love you too, Izuku."_

Helpless things, indeed.

—

Izuku was slow to wake, emotion weighty and stinging behind his eyes. The living room was still dark, giving the impression that it was still night. Izuku gave a sigh, rolling onto his other side and pressing his face into his pillow. There was a tightness in his chest, his heart heavy and sinking. He waited for unconsciousness to claim him once again.

But at that point, he became restless and was unable to fall back asleep. He had instead stared tiredly up at the ceiling, simply waiting for someone to wake up and render it the start of the day.

He didn't feel like getting up. His limbs were like lead and his head was foggy.

He listened to the mindless whir of the ceiling fan, the occasional jingle of its hanging chains. He felt warm and yet somehow still cold as if something buried inside of him had turned to ice. His mind blanked out, leaving him in a dazed state that allowed him to relax without a single thought. Nothing about Hisashi, himself, and his mother. All was quiet.

For the next few hours, he was alone.

Kacchan had gotten up, middle school uniform on, turning on all the lights on his way from his room to the living room. The ceiling fan's bulb flickered on, its yellow light burning into Izuku's uncovered eye. He cringed, pulling his blanket over his head to cover his face.

"Oi, Deku. Wake the fuck up," Kacchan ordered. "The entrance exam's today."

"I'm tired," Izuku managed through the tightness of his throat. "Go away."

Izuku felt Kacchan grab onto the blanket, forcing it from the former's grasp. Izuku groaned, covering his eyes with his folded arms.

"Shut up, you're fine. Now get up and get dressed, we're leaving soon."

"What should I wear, exactly?" Izuku muttered, his teeth gritted.

"Hell if I know. Just wear your old damn uniform and bring a change," Kacchan growled, stalking into the kitchen.

Izuku stared after him, expression grim. "Right," he whispered inaudibly. "I'll go do that."

Three minutes later, he came out of the bathroom, dressed in his black school uniform that was slightly wrinkled and just barely lighter than when he'd first gotten it. The gold buttons were small and dull and hard to slip through the shirt's slits, but they did their job and that was fine with him. He got a smaller bag, shoving a T-shirt and some jeans inside. He zipped it up and brought it with him back into the living room. Mituski was now awake, though she seemed utterly exhausted.

"Hey, Izuku," she greeted, waving a lazy hand. "I just wanted to wish you luck before you had to leave." Grinning, she raised her steaming mug of coffee to her lips. "Hell, Katsuki will fuck himself up without my luck."

"Get off my fucking back—it was one time!"

While Kacchan had breakfast Izuku tried to calm his racing heart by talking with Mitsuki about more light-hearted things. It seemed that this was it. They'd waited for this time their whole lives. And now, now was it. Their one chance at getting into the school that only accepted 1 in 300 students into its walls.

After everything that had happened with Hisashi. After everything that had happened with Mom, it was his time. His one time.

He only had one chance.

"Alright, let's go."

Izuku turned to stare at him. "What?"

"You heard me," Kacchan stated, wrapping a scarf around his neck. "We're leaving. Hurry your ass up or I'm leaving you behind."

"Right," Izuku muttered, shouldering his bag and walking toward the front door. He had to wait for Mitsuki to be done embracing her son.

But he froze when she started coming toward _him_. Her arms went around him and for a second, he didn't know what to do. But on a whim, he slowly raised his arms, his hands on her back. Once again, he felt that weight behind his eyes. The stinging.

She pulled away, smiling. "Alright, you two go do your best!"

Kacchan snorted, opening the door and grabbing Izuku by the wrist. "Quit gawking, you've been hugged before."

That wasn't a lie, but it seemed almost too cruel to be the truth.

 _You've been hugged before._

 _By Mom._

Izuku uttered a simple "I know" and that conversation didn't continue. It was cold outside.

"You'd better not fuck this up," Kacchan said, his breath coming in puffs as they walked up to the examination site.

Izuku risked a slight scowl, pausing abruptly and sticking out his leg right as Kacchan passed him. With a startled-sounding noise, Kacchan pitched forward—

Then stopped in mid-air.

"Ah! Sorry I used my Quirk without asking!" The girl took Kacchan by the shoulders and lowered him so his feet touched the ground. She smiled, eyes bright and cheeks flushed from the cold. "I just thought it would be bad luck if you fell."

Kacchan's teeth gritted, taking a step forward. "I don't need luck," he snarled, a harsh grin spreading on his face. "I'm gonna fuck all of you up!" Izuku rushed to hold him back, wrapping his arms up and around Kacchan's shoulders, keeping him from stepping closer to the girl.

"Sorry," he hissed, hoping he was loud enough. "He's got a short temper."

The girl gave another smile, though it seemed more forced, beginning to quickly walk off. "Ah, okay! Well, good luck to all of us!"

Kacchan jerked his elbow back, landing a hit on Izuku's ribs, causing the boy's grip to slacken. "That's what you get for trying to trip me," Kacchan growled, grabbing the boy's upper arm and wrist, making the latter flinch, and judo-flipping him into the concrete. "And that's what you get for trying to hold me back," Kacchan snarled, placing his foot on Izuku's cheek.

"Ow," Izuku muttered, his vision hazy and dazed. Pain flooded his head, and a sort of phantom pain bloomed in his wrist. There was a group of people staring on in shock and surprise. A few had to suppress laughter, though most of them seemed tense.

Kacchan lifted his foot, beginning to walk inside. "Now get up, we don't have all day."

"Right," Izuku croaked. He allowed himself a couple moments of rest before he forced himself to get up, pain crackling through his whole body. He muttered a few curses but managed to get himself inside and seated in the giant auditorium with the rest of the examinees.

He had found Kacchan taking up two seats, one for him and one for his feet before he moved and sat up straight for Izuku to take a seat.

Izuku's one visible eye widened slightly at the sight of the stage. Present Mic, with his gravitational law-defying hair, stood on the stage, speaking to another employee. "Huh," he whispered. "I guess they weren't joking about having access to the top Pro Heroes."

Kacchan scowled, sinking farther into his seat. "Yeah. I guess they weren't."

Izuku couldn't help but glance over at him, annoyed. "What's wrong with you?"

Before Kacchan could say anything, Present Mic was already onstage, grinning like mad. **"WELCOME TO TODAY'S LIVE PERFORMANCE!"** he yelled, and his voice carried through the auditorium as if he were using a microphone and speakers. **"EVERYBODY SAY 'HEY'!"**

Though he was met by an unenthusiastic silence, that didn't seem to stomp out his good mood. **"That's cool, my examinee listeners! I'm here to present the guidelines of your practical. Are you ready?! YEAH!"**

The silence continued. **"Alright, my listeners, this is how it'll go! You'll be dealing with ten-minute-long 'mock cityscape maneuvers'! You can take whatever want along with you, and you'll be headed to your assigned testing location after this presentation!"**

As Present Mic yelled out "OKAY?!" to the crowd, Kacchan turned to him, his face grim. "We won't be in the same testing location," he started. "They set it up so kids from the same middle schools can't help each other out. You're gonna have to do this by yourself."

Izuku almost scoffed. "I think I can handle myself well enough to get through this on my own. But thanks for your concern."

"I'm not concerned, I'm just making sure you know!"

 **"Each site is filled with three kinds of faux villains! You're awarded points for defeating each based on their respective difficulty level! That's precisely your goal, listeners! Use your Quirks to defeat the villains and earn points, and of course, playing the antihero and attacking other examinees is forbidden!"**

A kid stood up, adjusting his glasses. "May I ask a question?!" he began, holding up his paper for the Pro Hero. "There appear to be no less than four types of faux villain on this handout! Such a blatant error, if this is one, is highly unflattering for Japan's top academy! We're all here today in hopes of being molded into model heroes!" Then he turned, a glare on his glasses making him seem smarter and more intimidating. In a sudden movement, he whipped around, almost glaring right at Izuku.

"And you, with the covered eye and curly hair!" Izuku straightened in his seat. "You've been whispering this whole time—it's distracting. If this is some sort of game to you, then please leave immediately!"

Something flared in Izuku's chest, making him want to light up and burn his boisterous fucking face off—

Kacchan was holding him back with a full-on glare, grappling at his wrists. "Deku, sit the fuck down!" he hissed. "Control your damn self or you're not even getting a fucking chance at the exam!"

That made Izuku stop, though his face was already furiously flushing with the embarrassment of getting called out like that.

Present Mic didn't seem at all concerned with the little ball of anger in the crowd. He simply waved a dismissive hand. **"Alright, alright. Great catch, examinee 7111, thank you! But the fourth faux villain grants you a grand total of zero points! It's more of an obstacle! It's like the Thwomp from** ** _Super Mario Brothers_** **, but there's only one in each site, and it'll rampage around in close quarters!"**

The kid with the glasses contemplated this for a second before giving a quick, low bow. "Thank you, sir, I apologize for the interruption!"

Izuku sighed, forcing himself to stay quiet. **"Well, that's all from me! I'll leave my listeners with our school motto. The great Hero Napoleon Bonaparte once said, 'True heroism consists in being superior to the ills of life'..."**

 ** _"PLUS ULTRA!_** **Break a leg, everyone!"**

Izuku stood up with everyone else to leave, giving a slight bow of the head as he glanced at the paper that held his testing site's location.

—

Izuku stood at the site's gate, his T-shirt and shorts already on. On a whim, he had decided to pull on his gloves, though wearing them now of all times put a sour, metallic taste in his mouth from when he'd bit his tongue to keep from speaking.

He knew that, in the end, they were crucial to his success. Once he passed, he'd throw them in a fire that never went out, burning away the filthiness of their giver until they were nothing more than ash. Something made his mind go from burning the gloves, to burning Hisashi's face.

The stench of smoldering flesh was branded into his nose. It was one of those things that seemed like they would never go away.

Almost like she was a spotlight, Izuku noticed the one girl that had kept Kacchan from breaking his nose on the concrete. He had started to walk up to her when something grabbed his shoulder, causing Izuku to almost flinch away from the person's grasp.

"Why are you here? Are you hoping to interfere with her preparation?"

From the voice alone, Izuku could tell that it was the kid with the glasses, and he could already feel the irritation clawing at his muscles, his skin crawling and itching, begging him to just do _something_ about it.

He could hear whispers from around the crowd of examinees.

 _Isn't he that one villain's son?_

 _Why did they let him here?_

 _He's kind of scary, actually..._

His hands tightened to fists as he whirled around, turning to one gossiping kid. He openly glared, feeling the heat of his Quirk gather in his palms, flames flickering out between his fingers. _"I'm not a villain,"_ he whispered, his low, crackly voice just barely audible. _"And I'm not Hisashi."_

 **"AND BEGIN!"**

Everyone froze, glancing up with confused and unsure faces at the tiny speck on the tall observation tower. Present Mic, it seemed. There was an echo of "huh?" across the examinees.

 **"The test's started, now what's wrong? There's no countdown for Heroes—start running!"**

Dust was sprayed everywhere, coming up in clouds as everyone started booking it into the mock cityscape. Izuku was frozen for a second before it snapped back to him that he was already behind.

Adrenaline was now coursing through him, his soles hitting the ground as he struggled to catch up with the rest of them. The ground trembled as a building was busted apart, shrapnel exploding in all directions. Izuku felt the heat of his Quirk in his hands, setting his palms alight.

A blue, shining laser came from nowhere, cutting the robot's whole arm off. A blond kid with an irritatingly smug face started running off, sending a wink Izuku's way. "Merci! I loved the assist, but I doubt that we'll meet again. Adieu!"

"WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!" Izuku shrieked, feeling his throat start to tear up. He gritted his teeth, a hot glare on his face, flames licking at the air. He paused for only a second before running off down another street, desperate to find another machine.

 **"SIX MINUTES, TWO SECONDS REMAINING!"**

His heart sped as he glanced around. There was one—a three-pointer. He took off, hands up front and flaming. He grabbed onto its "foot", feeling the metal soften beneath his touch, falling apart and melting into the concrete. He heard the shrill whining of guns being powered up.

He froze for a second before looking up, digging his fingers into a higher piece of metal, and pulling himself up, climbing up the front of the robot. He left behind indentions as he climbed up, higher and higher until he finally reached its "head." Izuku felt the flames become hotter, burning a bright white that felt like it was burning his own skin. He plunged his hands deep inside of its "head", feeling the wires short-circuit, the power dying out and the robot shutting off.

It pitched forward, and Izuku pulled his arm out of the giant hole in its "head" before leaping off to avoid getting crushed. He'd only used his Quirk once before the year he'd started training, and he was tiring out quicker than he'd hoped.

Suddenly, Izuku became aware of the bits and pieces left over of the faux villains that had been utterly decimated.

He saw the girl from before, panting and pale, looking rather sick. "Only 28," she sighed.

Izuku's gaze flickered to the boy with the glasses, watching him crack apart a robot's outer metal shell with his boosting Quirk. "45 points!" he yelled.

The boy glanced around almost desperately, even peeling off the cloth bandage over his eye in an attempt to see more clearly. It didn't help. There were barely any villains left. _His chance was over._

 _He had faile—_

Multiple buildings collapsed, dust and debris shooting up in clouds. One robot towered above it all, its metal platings and wires and hinges all visible and strong.

 _It'll rampage around in close quarters!_

Izuku was frozen, staring up in horror at the giant killer that was as tall as ten stories. He just barely spotted the kid with glasses, sprinting away along with the rest of the examinees. Izuku turned to run himself but stopped, his feet stuck in place.

"Oww..."

He turned to face the sound, spotting the girl from before, unable to rise from her fallen position.

 _I just thought it would be bad luck if you fell._

He ran forward as if his own life depended on it, flames going from his palms to his hands up to his elbows and farther, wreathing his whole body in red-hot flame.

He felt his skin burning and his hair being singed, but he pressed forward, forcing the flames to be hotter, hotter.

Izuku grasped the only metal part he could reach and forced the flames upward, traveling and running up over the robot's metal shell, squeezing through its cracks and weaving along its electricity-powered wires.

The click and the whine signaled its failure to cope, sagging forward and falling, falling toward the ground. Izuku, through the searing pain and throbbing and the wavering blur of the heat, saw that the girl was struggled to crawl away, but she wouldn't make it. She couldn't make it.

But then he saw the bright glare of a glasses lens, speeding up their way, grabbing the girl, and speeding off to escape the robot's doom. Izuku, just on the brink of unconsciousness, let go of its melted stilt, rushing underneath it to avoid being crushed by its weight.

He ran for what seemed like only seconds before his knees buckled, everything burning and aching, and everything screaming in pain. He couldn't process what was happening anymore. Things blurred and senses were no longer his own.

 **"It's all over!"**

He heard whispers and mutters, but he couldn't process a thing. He heard an old, caring voice before something soft touched his forehead, and then everything cleared.

He started coughing, feeling as though smoke were trapped in his lungs, forcing himself up with his newly-healed arms, covering his mouth with one hand. He choked and struggled to draw in breaths.

He heard their whispers.

 _A... a villains son saved that girl!_

Poor little kid. He has to deal with that Quirk.

 _No way—he must've known what would happen._

Poor little hopeless dreamer.

 _Not a chance he's getting in, especially with his Quirk doing that to him._

Poor little villain's boy.

—

"You know the boy?" Nezu asked, his soft-spoken voice almost begging for All Might to answer.

The thin, bony man sighed, putting his head in his hands. "Yes," he stated, "Though I don't think he knows that. Midoriya is a... special case."

Nezu sipped his tea. "I see. You know about his Quirk?"

To that, All Might had to shake his head. "Not a thing, despite the fact that it's fire-based and that he'd inherited most of it from his father."

"Must've been some kind of mutation," Nezu decided, taking hold of the tea bag's tag. "It's rare for a child's Quirk to be so different from his parents'."

All Might watched the scene of the examinees, crowding around the choking, sun-burnt looking boy in the middle.

"I feel bad for the boy," All Might said.

"I know." Nezu placed a paw on the man's arm. "He'll be fine, though. He's strong!"

But All Might couldn't fight away the sinking of his heart. "I'm not sure. What with his mother getting killed, and his father getting executed—"

Nezu covered All Might's face with a paw, innocent face smiling up at him. "I understand your concern over the boy," he began, handing his tea to the man. "And I see why you must want him to be your successor, but I assure you, there are much better suiters. The boy down there is dealing with things far beyond the normal level. He's conflicted. Adding One For All will only add to that problem."

Nezu hopped off his seat as All Might sipped from the tea he had been given. The intelligent animal took a small notepad from his pocket, handing it to Aizawa, who accepted it with a neutral expression. "Be easy on the boy," Nezu ordered.

"I can't promise anything," Aizawa droned, flipping through the principal's notes. "The students of U.A. aren't joining because they feel like it. They're joining because they want to practically kill themselves to become heroes."

"In Midoriya's case," All Might began lowly, staring at the screen, "that's precisely what had almost permanently disabled him."

 **A/N: I was never good at writing fast-paced or action-packed things. Constructive criticism is always welcome!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: HELLO EVERYONE I'M SORRY ABOUT THE LATE UPDATE BUT IT'S TECHNICALLY STILL CHRISTMAS SO** ** _HA!_** **Anyway, I'm sorry if this is going a little weird. I've been kinda exhausted lately since I've been rewriting the chapters coming up to this, and I guess it kinda slipped my mind that this is kinda weird? Nevermind, you'll see what I mean.**

 _"Stop laughing, Izuku."_

 _The boy's smile faded off his face as he looked up at his father. "W-why?"_

 _"Smiling makes you weak," the man told him, his voice stern and low. "That's how your mother died. She was trying to keep you calm, smiling and such. She wasted too much time."_

 _The boy's eyes turned misty as he glanced down at the carpet. "I-is it my f-f-fault sh-she d-d-died?" he asked quietly._

 _"Idiot boy, of course it was your damn fault!" the man yelled, grabbing onto his son's hair, prompting a squeak from the boy. "Now control your face and your damned stuttering or no dinner."_

 _Needless to say, he didn't get dinner for a long time. But it wasn't because of his face, more so his speech._

 _The stuttering was hard to control. That time was also when the boy earned his bad tongue-biting habit._

 _"And, from this point on, you will refer to me as 'Father'. Understood?"_

 _The boy bit his tongue, his teary gaze trained on the floor until the man pulled on his hair to make eye contact again. "U-unders-stood, F-Father," he sobbed, throat tight._

 _"Say it again."_

 _"U-unders-s-stood—"_

 _"Say it again, Izuku. This time, let's make it a game. Maybe then you'll finally listen." The man yanked on his hair once more before grabbing the boy's wrists. "For every stutter, I bend your wrists father back. The game ends either when I break your wrists, or your stuttering is rectified. Understood?"_

 _The boy licked his lips, blood staining his teeth. His tongue had been bitten again. "U-under—" He froze as the man forced the boy's wrists back, almost to the point where they couldn't naturally go any farther._

 _"Try again."_

 _"Unders-stood—" He had to hold back a whimper as it started to hurt._

 _"Say it again, boy."_

 _"U-u-understood, F-Fath-ther."_

 _"Idiot."_

 _Two hollow cracks._

 _—_

Izuku was lounging on the couch, though his form was tense and rigid.

"You need to stop worrying the fuck over it," Kacchan stated. "You did your best and there's nothing you can do now."

"That's the thing," Izuku sighed, "I don't know if I did my best. I don't know if there was anything else I could've done to get a higher score."

Kacchan leaned back into the couch, scoffing. "Just quit stressing. You'll get sick like that one time in third grade."

"That was one time!" Izuku hissed, his cheeks flushing a light pink.

Mitsuki came in through the front door, shutting it behind her. She was grinning like mad. "Guess what came in the mail!"

The boys shot up straight as Mitsuki walked over, handing them each their own letter. They were crisp and white with a wax stamp concealing whatever was inside. Dread and excitement rushed through Izuku's body, and though he feared what could be inside, he knew that this was another step closer to his dream.

Without even consulting Kacchan, Izuku got up and rushed into the former's room, shutting the door and sitting at his desk. He took just a second to run a thumb over the wax seal before another thought came to him.

 _Would they fail him just for Hisashi?_

It seemed like a dumb question, considering U.A. was more about character than heritage, but the longer he contemplated, the harder it seemed to believe that he'd gotten a letter at all. U.A. was, after all, the most prestigious Hero school in Japan, and had been known to pump out all the greatest Pro Heroes like Present Mic and Endeavor. Despite All Might having been taught there, U.A. highschool was still the very best in Izuku's eyes.

He ripped open the letter, letting it be split straight down the middle. A little disk clattered down onto the desk, releasing a hologram of light up right in front of the boy's eyes.

He saw All Might's grinning form, an air of confidence and pride surrounding his being. _"This is a projection!"_ he announced. Izuku had to force himself to stay in his seat, though his fingernails did manage to get buried in his palms. _"Young Midoriya! You passed the written exam with flying colors—the whole test was just amazing; You have a nice bit of knowledge in that head of yours. With a meager three points on the practical, however, I'm sorry to say that scores like that usually result in failure."_

Though it wasn't quite rational, something about it just made Izuku angry. His gaze flickered down to his hands, where he gripped his pants to try and relieve himself of the building weight in his heart. It made him want to go run off and cry, but scream and kick things at the same time. How carefree and happy All Might seemed was just so _irritating._

 _"But fear not, for that's not the end of your run. Watch the screen!"_

Izuku glanced back up at the hologram, and there he saw the girl from before, standing in front of Present Mic with an almost anxious look on her face.

 _"She came to us right after the test!"_ All Might supplied. _"She had informed us of the heroic act of yours."_

Izuku stared, hands tightened to fists, but not out of anger. It was out of the pure absurdity of it. All Might crossed his arms. _"You see, we weren't just watching for villain points! A hero course that rejects those who do the right thing, and act in such a selfless and independent way, then it's no hero course at all! Think this is all for the cameras? Think what you want! In this job, you risk your life and put your money where your mouth is!"_ All Might's grin, if possible, seemed to grow wider. _"Rescue points,"_ he began, _"They were another factor and another way for U.A. to evaluate you."_

 _"Sixty points for Izuku Midoriya. And while we're at it, 45 points for Ochako Uraraka, for her quick thinking and rational decision-making after you went down!"_

Izuku found himself standing up, leaning forward despite looking at the hero that betrayed him. His heart was beating against his rib cage, his blood pumping in his ears.

All Might thrust out a hand."Now come, Midoriya. This will be your hero academy."

He didn't know when the tears started, but they were definitely there, dripping down his cheeks and onto the desk. The hologram faded away, the room dark once more, and although Izuku still saw the infuriating image of All Might burned into his eyes, the words he said meant everything. His future, his dream, his whole _life_ had been depending on hearing those words. His quiet sobbing made his shoulders shake, and for only a passing second, he felt like _cheering._

He'd passed. Just barely, but he'd passed. His gaze went down to the disk on the desk. He picked it up, slipping it into his pocket before going back to the envelope, in which there was a piece of folded paper.

He unfolded it, reading over the words. It was just a transcript of the hologram, though at the very bottom in black ink, were a few words. They weren't typed. And they weren't neat. They were messily and hastily scrawled out.

 _Be the hero your father wasn't._

Izuku dragged a sleeve across his eyes, crumbling the paper in his hand. He got up, shoving it in his pocket with the disk, and collected the envelope pieces to recycle. Before he dropped the piece in the recycling, he carefully peeled the wax stamp off the paper, sticking that in his pocket as well. Izuku left the dark room, finding Kacchan reading his own letter at the dining room table. Mitsuki was laying on the couch, watching the news.

There was a woman, neat brown hair done up in a bun. Her form was straight and proper as she faced the camera, her expression almost grim.

 _"U.A. has opened its doors for another year, and with new Heroes out in the world comes new spots for students looking to get into their career,"_ the woman began, clasping her hands on the table. _"Only, along with thousands of examinees looking to get into the best Hero school in Japan, there's another boy looking to become a Hero."_ The picture of a green-haired, freckle-faced, angry kid showed up beside the woman, most likely on a green screen.

It seemed they had taken the picture during his freakout right before the exam, and purposely used that exact one. They were actively trying to paint him in a negative light. _"Izuku Midoriya, 15, is the son of Hisashi Midoriya, a big-time villain that has killed over forty civilians over only the past two years. Though Hisashi Midoriya has been caught and put to trial, it's guaranteed that he will be spending the rest of his life in jail._

 _"Izuku Midoriya, however, is still free to roam, and there are many civilians and Heroes that are worried how he might have been raised. The boy had been accepted into U.A. and will be learning from the best of the best, causing the community to become ever wary of U.A.'s judgment. Nezu, the school's principal, had decided this was the best course of action. What do you have to say about this, Mr. Principal?"_

The screen flickered to where the principal sat in his office, teacup off to the side and his attention at the camera. Nezu straightened in his seat, paws clasped and tuxedo neat and crisp. _"I believe that Young Midoriya has amazing potential,"_ he began. _"Though Hisashi had no doubt physically harmed the boy, I believe that in accepting Young Midoriya, we will have another amazing Pro Hero at our hands in just a few years, but I will say that he could use some refining for his Quirk._

 _"I don't think we have anything to worry about,"_ Nezu continued. _"I've watched the boy during the entrance exam, and the way he'd acted during Young Uraraka's peril was the ideal action for a future Hero."_

Izuku's eyes narrowed slightly. "When did they start talking about me?" he questioned idly, causing Mitsuki to jerk up in her seat.

"A month or two ago," she stated, blinking. "You didn't know?"

Izuku gave a shrug. "I don't watch the news. What have they been saying?"

Kacchan looked at him from the kitchen, "Just the usual shit; you being related to some villain and them making a big fucking deal about it." He scoffed. "They're all fucking idiots, that's the problem."

The boy sighed, running a hand through his hair. He went to the kitchen to make a glass of water. "Did you get accepted, Kacchan?" he asked, sitting across from his friend.

Kacchan sneered, folding up his paper. "Obviously. What, you'd think I'd flunk? I got seventy-seven points, mother fucker!"

Izuku's gaze went to the table. "I got three points."

Kacchan froze, sneer leaving his face. "Oh, don't tell me—"

"No no no, I passed!" Izuku rushed out, waving his hands about, "But it was only because of luck. I saved that one girl from getting crushed by the zero-pointer. You know, the girl that kept you from breaking your nose?"

Kacchan crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. "You're starting to make me hope you get expelled."

Izuku shuddered, shaking his head. "No way am I getting expelled. I just got accepted, and I'm not screwing this up," he stated. "I think that, for once, I get to do what I want. I get to chase after something that I've been wanting to do for years." He tightened his bleached-white fist. "My chance is right now. It's happening, and it's in reach." Izuku stared Kacchan in the eye, almost daring him to say anything different. "I'm being a hero, Kacchan. And for once, Hisashi's not going to stop me."

Kacchan waved a dismissive hand. "Alright, whatever floats your damned boat with your dumb monologuing. I'm going running." He got up, went to the front door, pulled on his shoes, and left the house. Izuku stared after him for a second before he felt a vibration in his pocket. He pulled out his phone, opening up his messages.

 **Hisashi**  
 **I see you're not giving up.**

Izuku almost felt his throat closing up. How did Hisashi even get a phone to contact him with? Who let him? Is he still locked away? Did he escape? How did he do it? So many possibilities ran through the boy's head. His fingers went to his throat.

 **Hisashi**  
 **I suppose that's admirable.**  
 **You only scored three villain points, and yet you manage to woo the judges into letting you in.**  
 **But at least you passed. Good job.**

Izuku swallowed, getting up, leaving his water, forgotten on the table as he went straight to Kacchan's room, ignoring Mitsuki's gaze trained on his back.

 **Izuku**  
 **Are you free?**  
 **Why are you texting me?**

 **Hisashi**  
 **Why, wouldn't you like to know?**  
 **For your information, Izuku, I've changed bosses.**  
 **Not saying who, but I will say that he's much worthier than that Hero Killer.**  
 **The new boss may be a bit childish, but his reasons are just.**

 **Izuku**  
 **Why are you texting me?**

 **Hisashi**  
 **I just wanted to let you know that your old man got out of jail.**  
 **Of course, I thought it would be the ideal time right after you got into U.A.**  
 **I hope you don't mind me using your old journal to my advantage.**

 **Izuku**  
 **Wait, you have them? What the hell are you doing?**

 **Hisashi**  
 **You never know when one might want to kill All Might.**  
 **I know you, Izuku.**  
 **I know what happened to you, and I know what your flaws are.**  
 **You're a villain, son. You're just like me.**

 **Izuku**  
 **I'm not a villain, and I'm not like you.**  
 **I'm never turning to your side.**  
 **I thought I drilled it into your head eleven years ago.**

 **Hisashi**  
 **Even though you chose your friend Bakugo over me, I'd still welcome you if you came back to me.**  
 **I'd still love you, despite your disgusting flaws.**

 **Izuku**  
 **Stuttering isn't a "disgusting flaw."**  
 **It's what happens when you're a scary dick to a little kid for their whole life.**

 **Hisashi**  
 **Izuku, you're my son. Anything that isn't perfect is a flaw.**  
 **Come to your senses, boy. Give up on your fruitless, hopeless dream.**

Izuku didn't text him back, merely shoving his phone into his pocket, trying to ignore the cacophony of voices starting to whisper at him again. He wasn't even sure what Hisashi was trying to do. Win him over? That was hopeless. The man himself knew Izuku was far gone. Let him know of his escape? Hisashi wasn't that stupid. Allow Izuku access to his new job? Highly unlikely. Izuku wouldn't even bat an eye before refusing. So what was that man's plan?

Izuku rubbed his neck, heaving a sigh. Another thing he didn't understand, and another thing Hisashi had managed to get under his skin about.

The boy got up from the desk and left the room. He paid no mind to Mituski's concerned look as he grabbed a hoodie out of his bag and pulled it over his head, heading toward the front door. "I'm gonna walk to the beach," he announced, as loud as his throat would allow, and turned the knob.

"Izuku." The boy froze, glancing over his shoulder at Mitsuki. Her expression was one of worry and care.

"Whatever you're going to go do, please stay out of trouble," she said, her voice low and sincere. "After the months you've been living here, I've learned a bit about you, and I think I know you well enough to see that you're struggling. Just..." She paused for a second, pursing her lips. "If you need someone to talk to, just know that you can talk to me or even Masaru."

Izuku stared at her, searching her gaze, her eyes. She seemed truthful. He gave a slight nod of the head. "I understand. Thank you."

He opened the door and left, walking down the cold, foggy street. The humid grogginess of the morning was almost disgusting. But it was slow and calming at the same time, what with the low temperature of the air.

But even though the calmness of the early morning was soothing, Izuku couldn't help but feel his neck burn with a strange feeling. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he flicked his hood over his head, willing himself to walk faster. Not one person was awake yet.

"You're growing stronger, Izuku."

The boy whipped his head around. Not a single person in sight. Then something dragged his hood off his head, cold fingers wrapping one of his wrists in a firm grasp. The other encircled his throat. Both caused the boy's heart rate to climb, but not because of the immediate danger.

"It-it's t-too soon," Izuku gasped out, his eyes blown wide. "You-you c-c-can't d-do it n-n-now, it-it's too s-soon, the-they'll kn-know. I-it's t-t-too s-soon, _it's too s-soon—_ "

"Silence, boy," Hisashi hissed, letting his neck go in favor of wrapping an arm around the boy's trembling shoulders. Izuku tried to ignore the way the man's fingers stroked up and down his forearm. "Let us walk. To the beach."

Izuku felt a metallic taste bloom in his mouth as he forced himself to stay quiet. They walked for a long time, the boy still shaking. Their whole walk, he hadn't once seen Hisashi's face. Just that fact made his shudders more obvious.

Once they started stepping on yellow sand, Hisashi moved his hands to Izuku's shoulders.

"Izuku," he purred. He stroked the name with care, and Izuku was sure he'd end up biting his own tongue off. Hisashi's hand went to the boy's cheek, thumbing over his skin in a way that sent shudders of disgust down his spine. "My son, you're growing stronger. Despite your flaws."

Izuku wanted to look away. He was forced to stare straight up into Hisashi's eyes, both almost completely milky white, a nauseating amount of thick scar tissue coating his face. The boy had to clamp a hand over his own mouth to keep from making a noise.

"Your Quirk is strengthening," Hisashi observed. "And it seems you've gotten a new family." The man seemed to almost struggle at that last word. When was the last time he'd said it? "A shame, really. You've almost forgotten me. I'm glad that I'd managed to get out when I did, or else you'd be far gone." Izuku swallowed, the taste of iron staining his mouth.

"But that's not why I'm here," Hisashi continued. "I'm here to plant the seed." At Izuku's incredulous look, he elaborated. "The seed of what could have been. A happy little boy with his father, romping around with equal parts peace and happiness."

The boy hated himself. It appealed to him. "Imagine it; you and I, palling around and having those family times that we'd never gotten. Joking around, having fun, enjoying the company that comes with father and son." He leaned closer, and Izuku could almost smell the desperation in the man's breath. "Just join us. Join me. We'll be together, and I'll love you. I'll accept you, and I'll love you."

Izuku's heart was thundering in his chest, his eyes wide and misty.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM, BITCH!"

Their heads whipped toward Katsuki, who was sprinting across the sand, using his Quirk to blast himself forward before he landed a hard blow to Hisashi's face. Izuku's hands turned clammy and he grappled for his phone to call the police.

"Izuku—"

"SHUT IT!"

 _"This is the 911 line, what's your emergency?"_

"A-a v-v-villain e-escaped," Izuku stuttered, unable to straighten himself out. His cheeks flushed with frustration. "H-H-Hisashi."

 _"Okay, stay calm. Deep breaths, the police are on their way. Could you tell us your name, son?"_

Izuku almost flinched at their word usage but managed to keep the phone almost still in his trembling hands. "I-I-Izu-Izuku M-M-Midoriya." There was an obvious hesitation on the other line.

 _"Okay, Midoriya, is anyone there hurt?"_

Though Kacchan was sitting on Hisashi, his hands around the man's throat, Izuku's knees almost gave out from him shaking so much. "N-n-no."

The police came a few minutes later. They were interrogated by an officer, who seemed to be considerably uncomfortable as he spoke with Izuku, who was still freaking out. Kacchan ended up taking over and demanded that despite Izuku not having to do anything, he remains there.

Izuku didn't argue, merely clinging wordlessly to Kacchan's arm as he watched Hisashi get shoved in the back of a police car, a muzzle-like contraption over his mouth. But his eyes were no different. They almost held a deep longing beyond his half-blind gaze.

 _I'll accept you, and I'll love you._

Was that really where he was going? Izuku swallowed, already knowing the answer. Of course it was. His idea of "planting the seed" had definitely worked, and Izuku hated himself for letting the man get ahead of him. For letting him take advantage of the little familial contact boy's had. It was sickening.

Izuku rubbed at his stinging eyes, the weight in his heart returning to drag him down. His head snapped up when he felt something grab his wrist, only to find Kacchan, starting to pull him forward.

"Deku. We're going home."

Izuku didn't argue, merely nodded and kept his gaze trained on the ground.

It seemed that Mitsuki had been alerted by the police about what had happened. She didn't seem angry, nor sad, just worried. And to Izuku's appreciation, she had been much quieter for the rest of the day.

She'd hugged him once or twice, ask him if he was okay, watch him give a halfhearted nod, and then go off again to do whatever she did.

Kacchan seemed to try and keep his distance, but Izuku insisted that Kacchan is to be near him almost constantly. Though Kacchan himself seemed suspicious of Izuku's reasoning, the latter simply said: "It's for a study thing."

That was a lie. Izuku was scared. Scared of being left alone. He was afraid that Hisashi would escape again, and try once more to "plant the seed." And Izuku was afraid that, after fifteen years of rejecting Hisashi, he'd finally accept.

—

 _"You sure he just...?"_

 _Tasaki crossed his arms, heaving a sigh. "Yes, he disappeared. The man's supposed to be dead, and yet here he was, torturing the same kid. I swear he has it out for him."_

 _"I actually feel kind of bad for the kid." Uki's face contorted to a scowl, placing her hands on her hips, "I don't know why, but I do. He's disgusting."_

 _"You don't need to be so harsh on the boy. He's, what, fifteen? What harm could he do?" The corner of Tasaki's mouth curled up in a smirk._

 _"Killing his own mother," Uki snapped. "The house went up in flames, and whose Quirk was it? The child's, you animal!"_

 _"I take literal offense to that. How dare you?"_

 _"Don't change the subject. That boy's a monster in our society. If it were up to me, I'd have him executed on the count of first-degree murder."_

 _Tasaki sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Well, there's no point, now. You heard what Nezu said. That kid is going to be a future hero and a good one at that. I just hope he stays in that mindset; that Quirk of his can be easily exploited using the right choice of words."_

 _"You seem to know a lot about this," Uki muttered, raising an eyebrow._

 _The officer offered a sly grin. "Ah, it's whatever. Just me going off on a tangent."_

 _But there was an unspoken suspicion from Uki. Tasaki wasn't acting right._

 **A/N: Hm, yeah, sorry I had to include some OCs. But to be fair, they're from my own universe, so I was just borrowing them for stuff. They won't be playing any important parts later on, don't worry. But yeah, sorry this went a little weird, and please excuse my ignorance concerning the Japanese police force—I've never been to Japan, and I couldn't find any credible sources (still looking, though). So, like I said before, I'm rewriting the first six chapters, including this one, and I probably won't update until those are finished. I'm sorry and Merry Christmas!**


End file.
